


Worlds Under Sky

by holdouttrout



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-12
Updated: 2006-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 00:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdouttrout/pseuds/holdouttrout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place after A New Hope, but events have been tweaked. Most of the changes should be pretty obvious or completely pointless to this story, but I’ll address questions as they come up. Basic idea? Han, Leia, and Luke took care of Jabba much earlier, although it probably wasn’t the smartest way to go about it. I might write that story next, if all goes well with this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worlds Under Sky

Chapter One: In which it really isn’t Han’s fault.

* * *

Han leaned against a bulkhead and watched Leia open the  _Falcon's_  access ramp with an uncustomary sense of trepidation. She looked calm and collected, her hair pulled back neatly into braids held close to her head, her white (a color that only looked good on her, thought Han) trousers, shirt, and vest crisp and clean.

In short, she was a far cry from the shell-shocked, unresponsive princess he had carried on board when he rescued her from the Death Star. When they had opened her cell, she had seemed almost unfazed by her circumstances, not to mention the destruction of her home planet. She had taken charge and led them out of her own prison. She only collapsed once they reached the hanger bay and saw his ship.

Han took the insult for what it was worth and had teased her about it later, when it looked like she could use a laugh and was conscious enough to understand it.

Currently, Han watched her check her gear and appearance one last time before setting off to her meeting with the latest underground leader. She showed no signs of being exhausted, although Han knew she had to be, having heard her mutter and cry out all night with her nightmares. That wouldn’t be that unusual, except he knew she hadn’t slept the last three nights previous, either.

Han Solo was worried, but since he did not know of anything he could say to her, he decided to keep quiet and keep watching.

He stood up and sauntered over to the hatch. "Ready to go, your highness?" He saw her sigh, and turn.

Han exaggerated a frown. "You didn't think you could leave me behind by getting up a little early, did you?" It was three hours before the local dawn. "I'm hurt. It takes a lot more than an early wake-up call to lose me."

Leia's eyes reflected her annoyance. "Captain Solo. I just thought, since I was up, I might as well get this over with." She tried to finish diplomatically with a shrug. "I didn't want to disturb you."

Han grinned. "So you do care."

She clenched her jaw briefly. Han had been assigned to "escort" her on this latest jaunt. He was taking the concept a little too seriously and refused to let her step on-planet without him. The combination of Han, Leia, planets—or maybe that should be Han, Leia, and bars, since that was where they met most of their contacts—seemed to be a troubled one.

The last trip they had made on turned out to be a spectacular disaster, and Leia just knew Han was fishing for an argument from her. She was tempted to give it to him, just on principle.

Han was still grinning, and Leia gave up. Sometimes the Corellian was impossible to manage. Besides, she _was_  too tired to watch her own back properly, and definitely too tired to argue with the pilot.

"All right, flyboy. Let's get moving."

The current planet, Sunara, was one of the nicer places Han had been the past year. It was a lush planet (or at least the main port cities were) with vegetation-lined streets and fountains at many of the intersections. It also happened to be one of those places that never slept, albeit in a quiet way, due to the large spaceport that brought in beings from all over the galaxy at all hours of the day, local time.

Thus, Han and Leia made their way to a small, upscale bar (Leia sighed as she thought about all the things that could go wrong in such a place), noting the very real yet unobtrusive presence of the city's police as they wound around other early-morning/late night couples.

The bar was situated in the corner of a small square, notable for the delicate-looking statue of a local goddess whose main feature was a pair of small, dripping wings. Even at this hour, about half the tables were full and a low-level buzz filled the warm, intimate air inside.

Leia relaxed as they found a table and ordered. She glanced at Han, who did not look as shabby as he normally did. She realized he had made a conscious effort to blend in.

He caught her eyes and grinned again. "Like what you see?"

Leia blushed, embarrassed he had caught her staring.

She said, “It’s just that…you look nice.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Hey, princess, I do have some sense of propriety.”

She retorted, “It would help if you showed it a little more often.”

Han leaned forward again, and raised his hands. “Calisk was not my fault. Those people are impossible. They deliberately misunderstand everything you say.”

Leia rolled her eyes. “Han, they have no concept of hyperbole or figurative speech. When you say your ship is the ‘fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy,’ they think you mean it literally.”

“Exactly.”

And just like that, Leia had lost the argument. She remembered—again—why she found the man so infuriating. She did not even try to bring up the trouble their side trip to Tatooine had brought them on their last mission.

Their drinks arrived, and Leia set out the datapad that would clue their contacts in to their presence. With a look at each other—Han’s was entirely too cheerful—they settled in for a long wait.

An hour and a half (and two drinks) later, they were interrupted by a splash from the square outside, and a few screams. Han and Leia rushed out with the rest of the bar’s occupants to find a body lying half in the fountain.

Leia glanced at Han. “Look at his coat,” she whispered. It was dark green with a distinctive yellow pattern on the sleeves. “That’s our contact.”

 

Chapter Two: In which Mon Mothma tries to tell Leia it won’t be so bad.

* * *

Mon Mothma had explained the mission to a very tired Leia.

“We have two very important jobs for you, Leia. The first is to take some medical supplies to Ahwaaine, and the second is to make contact with the legitimate government on Q’Alde. We believe the Q’Alde might be ready to join us, but it could be difficult to persuade their leaders that they should follow us, since they are not human and most of our alliance is. You are our most experienced diplomat, and by far the most qualified to allay any fears of prejudice.”

She paused. “Leia, are you well? You look exhausted.”

Leia pulled her head off her hand. “I’m fine. I just…didn’t sleep well last night.”

Mon Mothma studied her a moment, and finally nodded.

“You will stop first at Ahwaaine, and then continue onto Q’Alde. You’ll have to make a brief stop at Sunara to acquire the latest protocols for contact on Q’Alde.” Mon Mothma sighed. “I wouldn’t normally ask you to make the drop at Ahwaaine, but time is limited, and so are ships.” She gave Leia a searching look, and Leia began to get nervous that she knew where this was headed.

“No. No. Absolutely not. I told you, after last time…”

“I know you and Captain Solo had…problems on the mission you went on earlier this year, but his is the only fast ship we have capable of hauling the medical supplies, too.”

Leia groaned.

“Leia, it won’t be a long mission, and it’s certainly not as complicated this time as it was last time.”

The door to the room opened behind Leia as she answered, “With Han Solo, nothing is ever uncomplicated.”

“What a nice compliment, sweetheart. So glad to see you haven’t forgotten me.” Han swaggered in. “Looks like we’re taking another trip, Your Worship.”

Leia glared, first at him, then at Mon Mothma. Mon Mothma raised her shoulders, just a little.

“The trip there and back should take just over a month, but no one knows how long you’ll have to spend on Q’Alde. Nonetheless, you should return no later than two months from now.”

Leia muttered, “If we survive.”

It was Han’s turn to glare. “Hey, we survived last time, didn’t we?”

“Luke had to rescue us!”

“Details, details. Besides, Luke is only one man.”

“And a Jedi.”

Han might have just rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, a Jedi.”

Leia tilted her head, trying to figure out if Han really dismissed the Jedi so easily.

Han held up his hands. “Just kidding around, sweetheart. So…” Han continued in an all-too-innocent tone, “When do you want to leave?”

 

 

Chapter Three: In which Han outsmarts Leia.

* * *

At Leia’s whispered identification of their contact’s body, Han grabbed her arm and held her close to his side, steering her away from the body and the square. She tried to pull away.

“Princess,” he said under his breath. “Now is not the time to be playing rebel leader.”

She tore her arm away. “I am not playing, and we need to find out what happened!”

“Oh no, we don’t. We need to get back to the  _Falcon_  as fast as possible and hightail it away from this planet. What if that guy saw us and talked before he was killed?”

Leia realized that if she turned around now, it would look very suspicious. She kept walking, but was obviously angry.

“Fine. We’ll go back to your excuse for a ship. But we are not leaving.”

It turned out that Han lost this argument, if only because all outgoing traffic was suspended for the time being.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered as a port officer checked their IDs and told them they were allowed on board their ship, but that they would not be cleared to leave for a few days—until the initial investigation was under way.

They boarded the Falcon, and Han moved to check some of the systems that routinely needed maintenance—probably to take out some of his frustration at being grounded. Leia went to the cabin she had claimed for the trip and changed into a dress and sash with brighter colors. She started unwinding her hair and walked back to the front of the ship. She palmed for the access ramp, but nothing happened.

“No way, your worship.” Han poked his head out from the cockpit hatch.

“Han,” she said in an overly patient voice. “I still have to make contact here. And I need to find out what happened to that man. If the group has been infiltrated, we have to know.”

Han noticed that she did not look nearly as regal with her hair down. He had not known very many Alderaanians before he had been caught up in this whole mess, and he wondered if all the women wore their hair long like Leia did.

“Are you even listening to me?” Her jaw was set, and Han remembered that hair down or not, she was still the same hot-tempered women he had met in the detention block on the Death Star. “Open the hatch, Captain.”

Han shook his head and crossed over to her. “At least wait until the commotion has died down a little. The authorities said we would be here a couple of days, at least, so we have plenty of time.”

He was using his best persuasive tone, the one that both grated on and yet pacified most people—even Leia. Sometimes. He was lucky today, because Leia merely sighed in frustration and stalked back to her cabin. Han saw her that night, briefly, as he finally left the engines alone and went to freshen up before bed. She was reading a datapad in the common seating area. She did a commendable job of ignoring him, so he just grinned at the back of her head and went to bed.

* * *

“Han?” Leia’s voice was muffled, but loud. And urgent. “Han? You need to see this.”

Han rolled out of bed before his brain kicked in. He opened his door and blinked at the sight of a fully awake, fully dressed princess.

“Come on.” Leia led the way to the  _Falcon’s_  access ramp. Han stumbled after her and stopped dead at the end of the ramp. Several of the ubiquitous officers they had seen the day before were leading one of the shipyard workers away.

“Guess what they’re arresting him for? Our contact’s murder.”

Han cast a dubious—and finally awake—look in her direction.

“I know. I don’t believe it either.”

Han scratched his neck and yawned. “It’s a good place to start our own investigation, though.”

He did not miss Leia’s approving half-smile, or her tired eyes, as he turned back up the ramp.

 

 

 

Chapter Four: In which food plays a disproportionate role and Han muses.

* * *

Han was by nature a cautious man. Not that anyone who knew him would believe that, but it was true in a certain sense.

Han would risk his life for few things. One was his freedom, and because of this, Han had acquired his status as a daredevil. He would also, on some occasions, risk his life to save people he felt obligated to look out for.

But Han wouldn’t risk his life or freedom for spice, which explained why he had dumped his cargo to avoid being pursued by the Imperials. He wouldn’t even (most days) risk those things for money. After all, money could usually be found more than one way.

Leia thought Han was with the Rebellion for an eventual (hypothetical) payoff.

Leia was mistaken.

Han had accepted Luke’s crazy rescue mission aboard the Death Star because he had seen the money as his ticket to freedom from Jabba. And after his escape from Tatooine last year, Han had gained his freedom.

But he still stayed with the Rebellion.

Gods only knew why.

That wasn’t necessarily true. After all, Han wasn’t a stupid man, and he had begun to think his reasons had something to do with a short, fiery-tempered princess.

Han didn’t much like this line of thought, though, and was thinking about all the reasons why it couldn’t be that princess that kept him with the Rebellion (he wasn’t finding very many) as he followed said princess to the hanger employee’s work area.

There were currently two deck employees in the area. Both were Akonen, a species characterized by small, furry bodies and large heads. The Akonen were known as quiet and industrious beings, without a homeworld that anyone could remember. They had been in space so long, and there were so many of them dispersed through the galaxy, that there didn’t seem to be any particular concentration of them on any one world.

Leia approached the one that was welding a casing for a droid together.

“Excuse me, but could you tell me what happened this morning?”

The Akonen exchanged glances, then the second Akonen spoke while the first continued welding.

“Fellow-being, the employee removed was convicted of murder earlier this morning. Your ship is now free to go, if that is what you wished to know.”

Leia lifted her palms. “I was hoping for more information—a story, perhaps?” The Akonen looked at each other warily, and the negotiation for information continued while Han looked on, impressed that Leia know exactly how to address them. He had seen her respond perfectly to different species before, and knew this was one of the reasons she had been chosen for this particular mission. He almost never managed to get all of the nuances of communication with alien species correct.

The second Akonen finally returned the palms-up gesture. “A story. Yes, there is one in everything. This human had long been suspected as a thief, but not a murderer…or a traitor. Other eyes and ears left the hangar this morning as well, and others came to replace them.”

Leia said, “A traitor?”

The Akonen said, “That is what the commander said as the human was led away today.” He shifted his attention back to his work.

The Akonen obviously weren’t much for elaboration, Han thought, but the details were clear enough: the unfortunate thief would have the murder pinned on him, and the Imperials were using him to ferret out the known rebel’s connections and contacts; namely, Han and Leia.

“They had to know something important was going down,” Han told Leia.

“I like this less and less.” She sighed. They exited their docking station in unspoken agreement, heading for the market and lunch.

They sat down at a table outside a small Corellian place.

The waiter shuffled over. He placed two napkins down, and as he did so Leia noticed writing on the bottom of the one placed closer to Han. She said nothing as the waiter put down two glasses of water and left.

She looked over at Han, wanting to know if he had seen the same thing she did. Judging from the wicked gleam in his eyes, he had, he had an idea, and she wasn’t going to like it.

Han reached across the table and tucked a strand of Leia’s hair behind her ear. As his fingers brushed her skin, Leia shivered just a little. Then Han’s forearm knocked over Leia’s glass, dumping the water straight into her lap.

Leia jumped up, shocked and cursing.

“You half-brained, clumsy…” her brain caught up with her, and she lost her train of thought.

Han jumped up, too, grabbed the napkins and started apologizing and trying to dab at the wet spots on her skirt. Leia glared at him and grabbed the napkins.

“I’ll be back,” she said, and headed for the ‘freshers she knew had to be inside.

Inside the ‘fresher, she opened the napkin with the writing and scanned it quickly. It was a time and a location, presumably a meet. She flushed the napkin down the toilet. She then used a hand dryer—an antiquated and ineffective piece of machinery—to partially dry her skirt, giving her time to fume a little at Han.

She returned to the table to find food already waiting.

“I went ahead and ordered for us both. Again, I’m so sorry,” Han offered.

Leia muttered, “No, you’re not.”

Han grinned—unrepentantly, Leia thought. She inspected her plate, finding to her surprise that it was one of her favorite Corellian dishes.

Han said, “You ordered that last year, at that place we ate at on the station.”

“More like didn’t eat. We were interrupted, as I recall.”

Han leaned forward, “We have time today, though, right?”

Leia popped a piece into her mouth. “We’re not in any rush.”

Han said, “I used to get this all the time. I haven’t had any, though, since I was…” he frowned a minute, then continued, “fifteen. Most planets don’t have good Corellian food. As I found out.” He grinned wryly.

Leia swallowed her third or fourth bite. She felt like asking Han what the rest of the story was, but did not want to seem too intrusive. He must have seen her curiosity, though, because he proceeded to tell her a hilarious story about a small diner, a Gamorean, and a Corellian spice known as j’fala pepper.

Leia found she enjoyed the lunch, even while she was worrying about napkins and contacts and Imperials.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five: In which the plot finally surfaces

* * *

Han and Leia left the café with Leia leading the way. She figured they had plenty of time to make their rendezvous with time left over to scout things out.

They reached the square from the morning before. Leia started toward a left-hand exit street, but Han steered her toward the fountain in which their contact’s body had been found.

“I just want a quick look,” he said, “and you do, too.”

She did, she knew it was a bad idea, but she was too preoccupied to argue.

They strolled past the fountain, not catching a glimpse of anything relevant—not that either had expected to. But as they cut across the square again, Leia saw someone out of the corner of her eye.

“We’re being followed,” they muttered at the same time.

Leia said, “It could be our new contact,” but she didn’t really think it was.

Han shook his head. “No, it’s a bounty hunter. Not one I recognize, though.”

“Oh, so it’s not one of the hundreds that were after you last year?”

They took the side street and immediately turned left again.

“Come on. I’m sure there were more than  _hundreds_.”

They spent the next fifteen minutes getting themselves thoroughly lost, and the next half-hour finding their way through the crooked streets to their meeting place. They were pretty sure they’d lost their tail in all wrong turns they’d taken.

They entered another small square.

“This is it,” Leia said.

“Now what?”

“We get out of the open,” said someone behind them. Leia and Han wheeled around. A very large man was beckoning them to come with him. “You have lost the first one, but there may be others. Quickly. I must give you the information you came for, and then we must find you some way back to your ship. I’m afraid the local spies, at least, are alerted to your presence.”

Han and Leia exchanged a look.

Han asked, “Are you sure about this guy?”

Leia studied the man for a second as he started up the outside stairs of the nearest building. He had dark skin, and short, curly black hair. She guessed he was a native Sunaran from the way he dressed. He turned around and Leia got the sense that he was out of place, that he would be much more comfortable laughing at a joke in a bar like the one they’d gone to when they first arrived. He was nervous, but confident.

Slowly she nodded. “I think it’s okay.” Han shrugged his own assent.

The man smiled warmly. “Then let’s get going.”

He opened a door at the top of the stairs and ushered them into a small room.

“My name is Matil. I am sorry for the problems you’ve experienced here. It seems the Empire’s spies compromised one of our cells just in time to learn of your arrival.”

Matil handed Leia a datachip. “This is the information you’ll need for the Q’Alde. And, may I say, it’s an honor, princess. The Sunarans grieve for Alderaan.”

Leia felt her eyes prickle slightly. His matter-of-fact approach was oddly comforting. Most people tended to avoid the subject altogether, not knowing what to say.

“Thank you, Matil.” Leia’s voice was rough.

Matil turned to Han. “I’m sorry, but I do not know who you are.”

Han, who had watched the previous exchange with some interest (and Leia thought maybe worry), feigned offense. “Not know who Han Solo is? I’m hurt.”

Matil laughed. “Ah, I should have known. The princess’ protector would be none other than the famous Corellian pilot.”

At Matil’s words, Han got a peculiar look on his face, but didn’t say anything. Neither did Leia, although she debated between outrage and laughter for a moment.

Matil said, “I have other clothes for you, but you may want to disguise yourselves further.”

Han said, “We could always cut your hair, Highness.”

Leia blinked. “Are you insane?”

Han gave a melodramatic sigh. “Haven’t I answered that to your satisfaction yet?”

Matil grinned. “I am sorry the selection is not better, but I am afraid I must head back, or I will be missed. Good luck.”

He left through a door at the far end of the room.

“Not much for small talk, I guess,” Han said while examining the clothes Matil had left behind.

They changed quickly. Han was stuck with a shapeless brown robe that would have been almost a foot too long for Leia, while Leia changed into form-fitting, stiff cream-colored pants she suspected were real leather and a sleeveless vest that matched and left her feeling very exposed. After a short debate, she pulled her hair back into a single long braid that hung down her back, and took her sash and tied it over her head and threaded it around her braid.

“There,” she announced. Han turned to look at her. The outfit, besides fitting her very well (too well, he thought), made her look even younger than she was. Han thought it probably also made him look older in comparison, especially with the brown robe.

Leia glanced him over and sighed. “If we pull this off, it’ll be a miracle.”

They left the building and started guessing their way through alleys, sometimes having to backtrack when they guessed incorrectly. Partly they were trying to avoid being picked up by the spies they knew had to be looking for them, and partly they wanted to avoid as many of the regular patrols they could. They had almost reached the spaceport and turned the last corner. The spaceport lay before them, as well as a large, empty space filled with beings of all shapes and sizes.

“So what do we do now?” Leia asked Han. “Split up?”

Han shook his head. “I think we should just run for it.”

“And running is not going to attract attention?”

Han said, “We’ll just…run casual?”

Leia opened her mouth while she tried to think of an adequate response, heard a click and turned to find several blasters pointed their way. In the center of the group was the bounty hunter they’d seen earlier.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six: In which nightmares fade.

* * *

Old reflexes die hard, and Han didn’t miss a beat. He leaped forward, into the blasters, and somehow managed to avoid getting shot. Leia, in a very graceful moment, managed to trip, hit the ground, but recovered and kicked out, hoping to get a good solid hit on something, grabbing for a blaster when one magically fell her way.

She rolled back to her feet just in time to see Han smash one of their assailants’ faces with the back of his head. The man went down, and Han grabbed his blaster with one hand, reaching for Leia’s hand with the other. They ran out of the alley and into the ‘port.

Han fired over his shoulder, discouraging pursuit, “I thought you were shot! What the hell did you think you were doing?”

Leia yelled back, “Well, you were creating such a nice diversion by throwing yourself in front of their blasters I couldn’t help myself. Had to match your stupidity!”

They heard a shot behind them and sped up. They managed to dodge through the crowds all the way to the _Falcon_ , which seemed unguarded. They barreled up the ramp, Han slamming the ramp closed as soon as Leia was on it. Han reached the cockpit, punched the engines, and they were airborne and gaining altitude. They managed to miss the patrols, and were free in space almost before they knew it.

As soon as they hit hyperspace (which worked, to Leia’s—and Han’s--surprise), Leia said, “I do not ever want to know how we got out of that one. And I thought escaping the Death Star was easy.”

They exchanged a look, and spent the next several hours searching through all the accessible systems looking for a tracking device. They didn’t find any, but Han and Leia both felt uneasy about the whole situation.

“I wish I knew who that bounty hunter was,” Han complained as he finished locking up the last compartment they could think of to check.

Leia closed her eyes. “It was a woman. Human—or close.”

“She was bald.”

Leia shook her head. “No, I think she just had really short blond hair.”

Han leaned against the bulkhead, crossing his arms thoughtfully. Leia was frowning as something nagged at her. She sighed in frustration.

“There’s something I’m missing here. She seemed familiar, somehow,” Leia said.

Han was skeptical. “I’m positive I haven’t seen her before.”

“Not from then. From further back.” Leia rubbed her temples and sighed again. “I can’t remember.”

Han shrugged. “Maybe you’ll think of it in the morning. You should sleep anyway,” he added as she opened her mouth to object. Leia finally nodded and went to her quarters, deciding it would come to her sooner if she wasn’t focusing on it so hard.

That night—or as close an approximation as they ever made on the  _Falcon_ , Han woke to the sounds of a princess crying out. He thought at first it was the normal noises he sometimes heard when he walked past the crew quarters or was awake in his bunk when Leia was asleep.

But then he heard something that made him sit up on his bunk.

“Han. No!”

He was out of his bed and in her room before his heart started beating again. Leia was sitting up in her bed, her hair flowing down her shoulders and back, her white gown hanging off her shoulders. Her eyes were wide open, her hand outstretched.

Han hesitated; then took her hands. She looked at him, although he wasn’t sure she was really seeing him. She started shaking, and he sat down on the edge of the bunk and pulled her closer to him, enfolding her in his arms.

She buried her head in his neck. She shook and stayed silent for many minutes. Then she admitted, “You were there, and he saw you. He went for you.”

Han said, “That was before I met you, princess.”

Her voice was muffled. “I don’t know…It felt real.”

“It’s okay. A nightmare.”

She shook her head, but didn’t respond.

He held her until she fell back asleep, and carefully lowered her into her bunk again. He left, closing the door silently behind him.

 

Chapter Seven: In which the romance is interrupted.

* * *

On board the Falcon, Han kept a sort of permanent twilight. Some captains—at least the planet-born ones—liked to keep a semblance of daytime and nighttime. Han just shrugged when Leia asked him about the lack of differentiation.

“It’s usually just me, so I just turn on lights when I need them. Besides, time differences on stations and planets are going to bug me no matter what time standard I pick, so why bother?” His voice turned teasing. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you? ‘Cause if you are, I think I could think up some way to help you overcome that.”

She was indignant at his suggestive tone, a reaction she later realized was exactly what he had tried for. She berated herself for days over that one.

She became used to the semi-dark that prevailed in most areas of the ship quickly, and now picked her way around the boxes that lined the corridor to the main common area. It had been about one day since Sunara, and Leia was avoiding Han. Possibly because she didn’t want to talk about stupid plans. Or her dream last night. She thought Han was asleep since she had not heard him whistling (an activity he did while fixing the many problems that cropped up every day) or swearing (for when the whistling did not work).

To her surprise, Han was reclining in one of the chairs around the table, his attention focused on a flickering holo-chess game in front of him. He looked up as she entered.

Leia said, “Oh. I’m sorry…I was..” She could not think of anything to say and stood awkwardly in the doorway for a second; then turned right around to head back out.

“Wait. You don’t have to leave, Princess. As I recall, you’re still free to move about the ship.”

Leia laughed (mostly at herself, she was sure) and turned back, taking the first seat she came to. It was, she noted, conveniently far away from Han’s.

It didn’t escape Han’s notice, either.

He turned off the chess game, decided to ignore last night, since she was, too. “I save your life—again, I might add—and all I get is the cold shoulder?”

“What did you expect, a kiss?” The moment the words left her mouth, Leia regretted them. Her eyes widened and she stiffened, mentally cursing herself.

A lazy grin spread across Han’s lips. He appeared to contemplate her comment just long enough for Leia to exhaust the Basic curses she knew and start on the Alderaanian ones.

He stood up and walked slowly over to her.

“A kiss, huh? I think a kiss would do nicely.” He sat down next to her, and all the curses flew out of Leia’s head.

“That wasn’t an offer!” Leia scooted back a little.

He turned and used one of his arms to trap her.

“I don’t know, Your Worship. It sounded like an offer to me.”

“I…ah…”

Han did not really mean to kiss her, even though he’d thought about kissing her again after Tatooine. But she looked so indignant, so scared, so un-princess-like that he did not think, just leaned forward and caught her lips with his. He was shocked that she kissed him back, considering he half-expected her to punch him.

Leia thought about it…later.

She pressed into him and Han, against all logic, pulled back, surprised. He opened his eyes to find Leia’s still closed. He leaned forward again, putting his arms around her waist before kissing her on the corner of her mouth. Leia drew in a breath and a smile flickered over Han’s face as he kissed the other corner. Leia reached up to hold Han’s shoulders and adjusted to capture his mouth with hers. Han tightened his grip on Leia’s waist, and she made a low noise in her throat. Just then, a loud thunk and an alarm sounded nearly simultaneously from opposite sides of the ship and they dropped out of hyperspace.

Han and Leia pulled back. Leia was sitting almost on top of Han’s lap. She glanced down and blushed. Han smirked. Leia jumped up and ran to the doorway, and Han followed almost immediately. Leia reached it first and instinctively headed aft while Han ran to the cockpit.

Leia found what had caused the thunk first. It seemed that a large section of bulkhead plating had…fallen over. Leia stared at it in astonishment.

“Leia! We’ve got company!” Han shouted from the front. Leia decided she would rather not think about ships literally falling apart, and ran back up to the cockpit.

“What is it?”

“It’s a patrol. With a grav well generator.”

“A patrol…an  _Imperial_  patrol? Here?”

“That’s what they’re saying, anyway.”

“This isn’t a normal route, is it?”

“It wasn’t last time I came through here.”

At Leia’s look, he admitted, “Well, it was six years ago.”

Leia rolled her eyes and pulled on a headset.

“Unknown freight vessel. Please identify yourself and prepare to be boarded… This is Patrol 2432 from Itvaaine. Unknown freight vessel…”

Han said, “It could be trouble.” He checked his readings again. “Damn. We’re fast, but even I can’t outrun that at this range.”

Leia sighed. It was time for disguises, which meant frantically stowing any incriminating items in the smuggling compartments.

Han gave her a conspiratorial wink and opened a channel. “Affirmative, Itvaaine patrol. Coming to rest. We’ll see you when you get here.”

Han cleared the channel. “Let’s be at it, then.”

Twenty minutes later, the  _Falcon_  looked almost empty. Their cover shipment of food supplies was stowed neatly in the cargo spaces, and the rest of the boxes (it seemed like every single one had something contraband in it), along with datapads, had been shoved into the under-deck compartments.

Leia had changed into the outfit she had worn on Sunara. The ship from Itvaaine had just matched up with them and was finishing establishing a seal to the  _Falcon’s_  upper hatch.

The hatch opened, and a man came down the ladder.

“What’s this all about?” Han asked while Leia hung back a few feet, trying to be inconspicuous.

The officer—a lieutenant she noted with relief, as it meant he would be harassed and pressed for time—nodded to Han and said, “We have word a fugitive might be passing this way. We’re under orders to search all vessels. You have anyone else on board?”

“No, sir. Just me and my wife.”

The lieutenant glanced at Leia who was busy looking at her feet and hanging her hair over her face.

“Ah. I see. And your business?”

“Food supplies from Sunara to Q’Alde.”

The lieutenant nodded. “I’ll just take a look around, then. Shouldn’t take long. If you’ll wait here?”

Han smiled tightly. “Of course.” The office moved around the ship opening all the doors and taking a cursory glance inside. Leia noted that his bored “inspection” didn’t even bother covering the farthest engine corridor.

“Everything appears to be in order. Sorry to detain you.”

Han shrugged. “Can’t be too careful, these days.”

The lieutenant climbed the ladder and was gone.

Leia breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that this trip was going much better than the last one. Leia thought that if she were optimistic, she might take it as a good sign. She didn’t believe in luck, but maybe Imperial patrols existed for other reasons than to make her life difficult.

Right.

 

 

 

C **hapter Eight: In which they reach Q'Alde and get nothing done**

The rest of Han and Leia's trip to Q'Alde passed uneventfully. Neither talked much, and both avoided the subject of the kiss. Leia was relieved Han seemed willing to let it go since she had been afraid he would tease her about it, although now she found herself inexplicably angry at his seeming indifference.

Han woke Leia from similar nightmares each night—although the princess seemed not to remember any of it in the morning, she did look like she had been sleeping better when they arrived two days later. It was early afternoon when they landed.

Because Q’Alde’s location made it difficult to have true Imperial rule, Han and Leia were met at the spaceport by a small delegation of Q'Alde that included some of the most prominent political figures on-planet.

The Q'Alde, like the Twi'lek, were a humanoid species. They were shorter than the average human, and had no hair on their bodies. Their skin colors tended toward brown, but with a blue or violet undertone, and they faced the same problem the Twi'lek did under Imperial rule: they weren't quite human enough to escape notice. Hence, they were excluded from the Imperial Senate and faced discriminatory laws throughout the Empire. Even without direct control over their planet, the Q'Alde had faced enough discrimination to warrant their extreme caution when it came to the mostly human Rebellion.

The delegation, headed by A'mar, a senator, received Han and Leia graciously, taking the time to give them a small tour of the city and the grounds of the honeycomb-like state building before showing them to a suite of rooms that were decorated in the same dark colors the Q'Alde seemed to favor. Here the delegation left the two visitors to rest, mentioning that someone would come by in a few hours when it was time for the night's meal and entertainment.

When the door closed behind the last of the delegation, Han quirked an eyebrow at Leia, having been warned that they would probably be under surveillance, even in their own rooms. Leia was impressed by the subtle network of thin audio wires attached to the wall and made to look like part of the room's decoration. It would be impossible to destroy the network without also damaging the room.

But they were prepared for this. Leia took out a mirror she had brought with her and set it in the bathroom. Inside was a dampening device that had sufficient range to cover their suite.

She reentered the front sitting room.

"There. We should be able to talk freely now."

"I still don’t understand why they bother if they know we’re going to jam their bugs. And won't this offend the Q'Alde?"

Leia said, "No one really expects to listen in on the conversations in a delegate's private rooms." Here she grinned. "They just hope they can."

That night at dinner Han noticed a general lack of enthusiasm on the part of about half those present. It seemed there was a strong, but small, group of Q'Alde who wanted to merge with the Rebellion and an opposing group who wanted to stay far away from any involvement with the other group. The rest looked like they were waiting to be convinced of something—and like they were judging Leia.

The entertainment turned out to be an ancient traditional style of Q'Alde drama that Han found slightly dull, but that Leia appeared to take in rapturously. When it was finished, A'mar, the delegate that appeared to have been assigned to Han and Leia for their stay, led them back through the labyrinth of corridors to their suite.

He paused outside the door. "I hope you enjoyed tonight's play, Princess. It is one of our most cherished pieces from the northern continent's Golden Era."

Leia inclined her head. "I can understand why, Senator A'mar. It's very charming. An optimistic play about the connection of strangers."

A'mar looked pleased at this description. "That is always how I have seen it. There are some who view it as a cautionary tale. After all, the main characters do not find happiness in the end."

"True, but it was not because of their actions toward one another that they missed their happiness."

A'mar smiled. "Indeed."

And with that one word, A'mar opened the door for them and swept down the corridor, where the nearest bend took him out of sight.

Han and Leia entered, and Han closed the door.

"I can see the game being played, but I think I understood tonight about as much as you understand Sabaac." Han was referring to the time on their trip last year he had attempted to teach Leia how to play his favorite game.

Leia remembered how she had lost fortunes of imaginary credits to the ex-smuggler and how angry she had been. She had known she was overreacting, even at the time. She shook her head ruefully at the thought of her behavior. Han certainly had a way of bringing out her worst.

"It's just practice. Everything means something at these affairs…the only trick is reading your audience correctly."

"Well, it's all the same to me."

But, as Leia found out, Han was actually pretty good at reading people. They discussed that night's happenings, and she was amazed at what Han picked up from the people around him. He was hopeless at remembering names, but he could remember small looks and reactions that were very helpful. He lacked only the training on how to respond in a diplomatic situation.

She supposed his background helped him pick up on the clues he noticed. When she mentioned as much, he shrugged and said, "Everyone has something to protect, and if you know what that is, you can usually deal with anyone well enough."

He left Leia wondering what he had to protect, and how staying with the Rebellion helped him do it.

 

 

**Chapter Nine: In which Han makes a social gaff.  
**

Their stay on Q’Alde seemed almost idyllic, except for the feeling that nothing was getting done. And that they were being watched all the time.

Leia and Han took walks through the garden in the mornings to discuss their plans for that day and the events of the previous one, as well as to meet with individual delegates. It seemed A’mar led the faction in favor of joining the Alliance, but there were many who still opposed the idea. Leia found it frustrating that she couldn’t identify who exactly was leading the other faction, as the Q’Alde were amazingly indirect.

One morning, Leia and Han were walking alone, their normal entourage apparently taking the day off. They were both silent, lost in thought. Han was frowning at yet another perfectly sculpted mound of vegetation when Leia suddenly chuckled.

“What?”

Leia smiled. “Remember Matil?”

“Dark guy the size of a small meteor?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking about what he said. About you being my protector.” She laughed. “The smuggler becomes the princess’s protector. Sounds like a fairy tale.”

Han said, “It’s probably what they’ll be writing in the history books years from now. You’ll be the famous princess who saved the galaxy and I’ll be a footnote—the fascinatingly obscure character everyone speculates about.”

Leia laughed, then her face fell.

“What is it, Your Worship? Want me to be more than a footnote? Can’t live without me?”

Leia said, “I was just thinking how all I’ll be is a footnote to Alderaan. The princess who couldn’t save her home.”

Han couldn’t think of anything to lighten the mood after that, so he just caught Leia’s hand in his. She stiffened; then relaxed her fingers around his as they walked down the sunlit path.

* * *

Three weeks later, Han looked up as the doors to the suite opened with a whoosh and Leia strode in, her white skirts swirling and the ends of the colored sash fluttering from the knot at her hip.

The doors closed, and the princess collapsed into a seat opposite Han.

“I’m getting nowhere,” Leia sighed, fumbling with the knot.

Han thought that a woman who looked like Leia had when she came in had to be getting  _somewhere,_ but understood the sentiment nonetheless.

“It’s a waste of our time…You know what they think? They think I’m being set up as the next empress or president or whatever. They don’t say it, but they hint at it, and it’s their main objection to the whole deal. I can practically hear them think: another human in power.”

Han put down the latest reports from the  _Falcon’s_  communications and said, “Isn’t the whole point of the rebellion to do away with the Emperor?”

Leia rubbed her forehead and looked up at Han. Her face was drawn, her eyes full of worry and fear.

Han pulled back slightly. “That’s crazy—“

“I didn’t even figure it out until I came here. The Rebellion is going to need someone to take charge—someone they know will help restore power to the individual systems, someone everyone knows, someone who will look at the whole picture. Who better than the princess without a home?” Her voice was bitter.

Han was silent. She had a point. The diplomatic missions, the lack of official rank, they all made sense if you thought about power voids and the very recognizable princess.

Leia had continued to hold his eyes. Now she dropped her head back onto the seat. “I’m going to have to do it, too. It’s the last thing I want—to be stuck with all that responsibility and intrigue and debate—but I’ll have to do it so we don’t end up with an even bigger mess.”

Han shook his head. Minutes passed in silence.

Han finally said, “What do you want to do?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Han said firmly. “What is the one thing you would do if it weren’t for the Rebellion, the Empire, all of it? What would it be, Leia, if you could stop being the “Last Princess of Alderaan” and do anything?”

Leia laughed, still a bit bitter, but with real humor this time. “I don’t know! I know nothing about piloting, or mining, or farming, or, or…entertainment. I could be a tour guide on half a dozen planets, for all that’s worth, but I can’t do anything  _useful_.”

Han shrugged. “I didn’t ask what you  _could_  do. I asked what you  _wanted_  to do. What did you want to be when you were a child?”

Leia said, with a perfectly straight face, “I wanted to be Jexa Sune.”

Han blinked, honestly surprised. Jexa Sune was the epitome of bad entertainment. She was the main character in a serial, and a woman who went around beating up spacers, bounty hunters, and anyone else that presumably had a connection to some seedy underground organization that wanted her dead. She did all this, of course, while dressed in skimpy outfits entirely impractical for space (or anywhere else, for that matter) and having myriad love affairs along the way. Not only that, but the effects were bad, the camera work was worse, and the dialogue was awful.

Leia grinned.

Han laughed, but then thought about Leia’s outfit on Tatooine, her actions on any of the planets where they had gotten in trouble over the last two years, and her aim with a blaster.

“Princess, I think you have Jexa Sune beat. Now all you need is long-lost relatives showing up out of nowhere.”

“Well,” Leia deadpanned, “I  _was_  adopted.”

They both grinned at that. A comfortable silence stretched until Leia realized it was comfortable.

Leia stood up, finishing undoing the knot. “Seriously, though. I’m not sure what else I can do to convince the Q’Aldei that the Rebellion isn’t just for the humans being oppressed. If nothing changes in another week, I think we should leave.”

Han nodded, looking forward to being back on the  _Falcon_  and in space.

“I’m going to change and rest for a bit. I’ll see you at dinner.” She kept her voice light and casual as she left Han. Han spent the next hour and a half mulling over the last few minutes’ revelations, alternately alarmed, outraged, and blasé about the whole thing. Who was Han Solo to judge politics? On the other hand, who were they to use Leia as their pawn? And why did he care?

* * *

Dinner, as it had been for the past three weeks since they had arrived on Q’Alde, was a quiet affair, with only Han, Leia, and the top four officials present. For the last three weeks Han had stayed virtually silent, letting Leia handle the discussions and contributing only when asked about his role in the Rebellion and/or the _Falcon_.

Tonight the conversation, Han noted dully, was centering on the importance of landscaping in establish governmental offices. It seemed this was of vital importance to the Q’Aldei, and helped explain why their offices looked more like parks than Coruscanti skyscrapers. Han would have kept his mouth shut tonight as well, settling into his chair to wait out what he considered interminable boredom, but they had gone over the same subject at least once every week, and Han was tired of hearing the same thing.

“The  _pha’sha_  of the area is the most important aspect of—“

“Your pardon, eminences.” He saw Leia turn with that slightly outraged, slightly horrified face she seemed to reserve for him when she knew he was going to purposely make some social gaff. Han ignored her and leaned forward.

“I know the  _pha’sha_  is very important and that you would probably like to discuss this until all our feet have fallen asleep, but I have to say that, as a representative of the Rebellion, I find what you are doing here intolerable. If you can’t see that we’re here in good faith, then you should have told us to get our backsides out of your system the moment you decided you weren’t going to accept our offer. We’ve spent enough time bending over backwards to your whims and discussing gardens and the proper balance of flora and fauna,” Leia winced, “and now it’s time to decide.”

Silence.

Han watched as Leia’s expression changed from one of horrified disbelief to murderous rage (he could see her debate all the best ways to kill him) to something that surprised the hell out of him.

She was  _relieved_.

She stood. “Captain Solo is right.”

Han gaped; then hurried to stand as well.

“While I was prepared to give you another week, we have been kept in limbo too long. Time is slipping away from us, and if you and your people are not prepared to support us and join our fight, I am afraid that we must leave at once.”

Her eyes flashed. “Together I am sure that we could do much good, but there seems to be something keeping you from deciding in our favor. Our cause is worth the risk; I suggest you make your choice, and quickly. We will leave within the hour.”

And with that, Leia swept out of the chamber, Han close behind her.

A few seconds later Leia said, “If you ever do that again…”

Han cocked a smile. “That presumes I’m ever in a position to do that again.”

Leia made a small shrugging gesture with her hands. “You can’t know how many times I’ve wished to do just that. It was a very bad idea, but it was worth every minute of explaining I’ll have to spend on Mon Mothma.” She smiled her own self-satisfied smile until she reached their suite.

“How quickly can you pack?” she asked him as she opened her own room’s door and found the suitcase she had emptied when they had arrived.

Han headed for his own room. “Two minutes, tops.”

They finished at about the same time and started immediately for the  _Falcon_.

They were stopped just a few hallways from their suites by A’mar.

“My apologies, but you must follow me,” he said. “There has been a problem, and now I and others feel obligated to correct it.”

Han and Leia looked at each other.

“What kind of problem?” Leia asked.

A’mar bobbed his head. “You were followed here, Princess, by an emissary of the Empire. We have been debating whether or not to make a deal with him. Your speech tonight settled most in favor of joining your Rebellion,” the two humans again exchanged a look—this time of surprise—“but one disagreed. He has gone to the Empire’s emissary, to reveal our plans and your presence here. I must get you to your ship secretly and quickly. That way we can deny you ever were here.”

Leia nodded reluctantly. Han said, “If you’re lying to us…”

A’mar shrugged. “If I lie, we are already dead.”

Leia knew this was true. The Empire would not allow rebels, especially not non-human ones, to live if they knew the whole truth. It followed that the Empire merely suspected their presence.

They followed A’mar through more and more corridors, in a direction that seemed downhill, walking for what seemed like hours. Leia began to wish she had taken another two minutes to change her shoes. Just as she thought it, A’mar stopped in front of her.

“Here,” he said. “Your ship is above us.”

Leia looked up and saw a grate sketched against the twilight sky above. There was a ladder in the side of a long shaft leading up to the grate. Han gave her a boost up and followed her as soon as she was far enough up.

“Thank you,” Leia called down to A’mar.

“We will send someone to your base soon. You behaved honorably with us tonight, and we will return the favor.”

And with those words, the being turned and was gone.

Leia reach the grate. She saw the  _Falcon_  not more than a few hundred yards away, sitting in the middle of a quiet shipyard.

“We’ll have to run for it,” she called down to Han. “You ready?”

“As ever,” came the reply.

A loud scraping as Leia pushed the grate up and away from the top of the hole. Leia jumped out and scrambled for the only cover she could see, which was some crates over to her left. Han once again found himself following the princess. They leaned against the crates.

“There isn’t any more cover between here and there,” Leia whispered.

“I don’t see anyone.” Han frowned. “I don’t like this. It’s too easy.”

Leia said, “You think the patrol was sent to give word that we were coming?”

Han pulled out his blaster. “Yeah. But why…?” He sighed. Neither he nor Leia could think of a good reason why the had escaped Sunara, or why the patrol had just let them go. He shook his head quickly and said, “Might as well get this over with. On the count of three. One, two,” and the two took off as fast as they could straight toward the Falcon, Han putting a little distance between himself and Leia.

Han paused at the bottom of the Falcon's ramp to wait for Leia.

"Someone's on the ship," he hissed as she neared.

"How can you possibly know that?" she asked.

"I just know."

Leia sighed, but remembered how Han had followed her lead on Tatooine, even though neither could see. If Han said someone was on his ship, someone was on his ship. She wished she had a blaster.

Leia realized there were only two or three people on the  _Falcon_  right away. For once thing, there was not enough space to hide too many—at least not if you discounted the smuggling compartments, which were great for hiding and not so much for fighting. For another, the fire Han and Leia found themselves under was comparatively light, indicating that the beings on the ship had spread out.

Leia smelled burning material—probably her skirts—as she dashed across the open corridor to the comparative safety of an alcove just out of reach of their enemies' blaster bolts. She tucked herself in just behind Han and waited for him to move. When he did, (running straight toward the blasters, which Leia acknowledged as both crazy and necessary this time) she took off in the opposite direction, using the regularly spaced bulkhead supports for cover. There were no blaster bolts coming from this direction, but Leia knew better than to suppose she was off the hook. She reached a corner and glanced cautiously around it, jerking her head back when blaster fire erupted suddenly and lanced into the bulkhead just beyond where her head had been.

She heard Han shouting on the other side of the ship, and was struck by a moment of concern. She shook it off, ignored whatever Han was yelling, and whirled around the corner.

She somehow miraculously managed to avoid getting shot and kicked her assailant (tall, human) in the knee. He staggered back but stayed standing. Leia didn’t even blink, but punched him as hard as she could. He fell back against the bulkhead, and Leia disarmed him, shooting him before he had a chance to overpower her. She crouched, listening for any more intruders, but did not hear any. She became aware that she was shaking, and that Han was still yelling.

She ignored the shaking, trusting her feet to work properly as she ran down the corridor again, stolen blaster ready. As she came to the other side of the ship, she saw two bodies, one of which she recognized as the bounty hunter from Sunara.

Han had stopped yelling and was now just cursing under his breath. As she saw what he was looking at, she heard her own cry of dismay.

Pieces of the  _Falcon_  lay strewn about, components Leia recognized from the hyperdrive.

 

 

 

**Chapter Ten: In which the happily ever after finally comes.  
**

Han swore as he scooped up piece after piece. He examined each one, and kept some while throwing others away. Leia realized the ones he was throwing away were damaged.

He finished sorting and straightened. “Okay. Good news. Everything over there,” he pointed at the pile of damaged pieces, “is only necessary to the hyperdrive if you want to be absolutely certain you survive re-entry to normal space.”

Leia rolled her eyes. “Good thing that isn’t us.”

Han grinned. “Now our only problem is getting into hyperspace in the first place.” He held up another piece. “This we need to work around. I need you to take off while I figure out how the hell we’re going to do this.”

Leia swallowed. “Han, I’ve never flown anything more complicated than an on-planet transport on autopilot.”

“No sweat, Highness. You know the theory. You’ll be fine. Just get her up. I’ll be ready to take over by then.”

Leia looked into his almost-reassuring eyes and decided they really had nothing to lose. She walked to the cockpit and sat down. She heard Han grunting for a few minutes and knew he was dumping the bodies outside. She waited until she heard the ramp seal itself, and spent the next twenty seconds screwing up the courage to touch even the most basic controls.

Finally Han yelled, “Sitting on the ground isn’t getting us away from the Imps, darling!”

Leia muttered something about self-assured Corellian pilots thinking they knew everything, and turned on the engines. She checked the controls as well as she could remember, and programmed the ancient computer to take them into space. Thankfully, it seemed to work, and they were out of the atmosphere in what seemed like no time at all.

“Han?”

He was distracted, but called back, “Haven’t heard any loud noises, so I’m sure you’re doing fine.”

“It’s not that,” Leia called back. “We’ve got company.”

Han swore. “All right. Don’t panic. Come down here.”

Leia obeyed.

Han handed her a few pieces and pointed to the components in front of him. “Those pieces you’re holding go in here. All you need to do is fit them in and tighten everything up. I’ll lose our friends, we’ll make the jump.”

Leia thought he sounded entirely too confident.

She was proven right a moment later when she heard him swear again after seeing what was pursuing them. It was the patrol from their earlier trip, of course, and it was already close enough that Leia had judged escape practically impossible.

Frustrated with one of the components of the hyperdrive that didn’t seem to fit anywhere, she yelled, “This is probably your worst plan yet!”

Han ignored her as he decided to use a small moon’s gravity to speed him on his way. The patrol ship’s larger mass would prevent it from following as closely, and the Falcon just might keep enough of a lead to escape, provided the hyperdrive was functional on time.

The next few minutes while Han did all he could to increase their speed were torture as Leia tried to stuff in the various components into the board before here while trying to keep her balance. It seemed inertial compensators only went so far on the  _Falcon_.

Finally he called back to her. “I hope you’re done back there! We’ve got about thirty seconds to the limit, and this better work the first time, or we won’t be around to try a second time.”

Leia looked down at the two components she had left.

“Uh. Yeah! Just…” she fitted one more in, tightening it down. “One. Minute.” She finished with that piece and moved to the next one. She jammed it into the most likely-looking spot and jammed a long, thin bar over it just as Han yelled,

“It’s now or never!” Leia heard him throw the switch, and prayed her makeshift clamp would hold.

With one great clunk, the  _Falcon_  jumped into hyperspace and away from their pursuit.

Leia laughed with relief, and Han yelled, his excitement audible throughout the ship.

Han threw a couple more switches to make sure everything was really okay, and ran aft. He came upon Leia leaning against the wall, grinning. He swept her up and twirled her around. She did not even feel it as Han set her down again.

She looked up at him and stopped laughing. She felt the same unfamiliar tightening in the pit of her stomach and she saw his eyes darken as he looked down at her.

He let her go.

“My worst plan yet?” Han sounded offended.

Leia smiled broadly, hoping the tension was broken for now. “Okay, it might come in a close second with that plan you had on Sunara. At least this plan worked.”

“That plan would have worked if you had just cut your hair.”

Leia sputtered. “Run casual? Not even Luke could have pulled it off.”

“The main problem with that plan was that a certain princess was too stubborn to cut a couple of inches off—“

Leia was actually angry now. “A couple of inches? You wanted me to cut everything  _but_  a couple of inches!”

“Hey,” Han shrugged. “It would grow back!”

She must have seen that he wasn’t serious, because she narrowed her eyes but did not say anything back to him. She folded her arms, just looking at him, the hair in question still pinned back, although parts of it were threatening to escape.

Han leaned close and tugged at one of the pins he saw holding up her hair. Almost nothing happened, so he tugged at another, his hand—dirty as usual—brushing her cheek and reminding her of their lunch on Sunara.

“Stop that.” Leia’s voice was a little hoarse. She remembered the kiss Han had stolen earlier on the trip, his reassuring presence at night and on Q’Alde, and realized she was trembling again.

Han tugged at yet another pin and kept his tone light. “What are you afraid of, highness? That you’ll have to do your hair again?”

Leia shook her head, causing one whole section of hair to fall.

“I’m not afraid.”

Han started on the other side. “Prove it.”

Leia was silent. The next pin came out, then another. She said, somewhat frantically, “How did they find us?”

Han said, still reaching for more pins, “I found a beacon. Must’ve activated when we hit the patrol.” He leaned forward to get a pin in the back, and said, “Actually, I’m glad you didn’t cut it.”

Without allowing herself to think any more Leia reached up, pulled his head down toward her, and kissed him.

Han hadn’t expected that, but he wasn’t about to let the moment pass.

With his left hand he pulled her close, his lips pressing back against hers. His right hand kept seeking out pins. There seemed to be hundreds of the things, but Leia was still kissing him when he pulled out the last pin minutes later. He pulled back just slightly as the last one fell to the deck and her hair tumbled down her back and over his other hand at her waist.

Han pulled back. Leia opened her eyes.

“Princess…”

She said, softly. “You really need to stop calling me that.”

Han swallowed. “Leia.”

Before she pulled him down again, she said, “By the way, I’m never flying in this death trap again.”

It really didn’t seem like the right time to complain.

Much later, Leia turned over, and Han put his arm around her waist, nuzzling the back of her neck. He remembered her earlier comment, and said, “You know, it’s not the  _Falcon’s_  fault we almost didn’t make it out.”

Leia made a sound in the back of her throat. “What? Oh. No, not that. I was talking about the fact that your bulkhead plating fell over…that was the thunk we heard before we were boarded.”

Han dropped his head back onto the seat. “That was it?”

Leia sat up and looked at him incredulously. “That was it? Oh, just another bulkhead falling over. Nothing to worry about. Not like those things are heavy or important or anything!”

Han put his finger on her lips.

“It was the bulkhead in the aft corridor, right? It does that all the time.” He leaned closer to Leia, who was not reassured. He smirked. “I think that corridor's haunted.”

Leia couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so when Han kissed her, she didn’t even protest. Right now there wasn’t time to worry about how Corellian pilots deluded themselves when it came to their ships, especially when a certain Corellian pilot was proving to be very distracting (and, she admitted, very reassuring). She figured she could always bring it up later, after they fixed the hyperdrive and if they survived reentry into normal space.

They did.


End file.
